


Sure as Hell Not Jesus (Formerly 'He Doesn't Mind')

by LittlePryingPandora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (Including misogyny), (Which means general warnings for Peter's fucked upness), Alternate timeline-Pre season 4, Blow Jobs, But Malia still exists, Cause she's fun, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dirty Talk, Even if canon is stupid, First Time, I don't really know how to work tags., M/M, No Kate Argent nonsense, Peter's POV, Phone Sex, Steter Week, Underage Stiles, WIP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-02-22 16:26:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2514281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittlePryingPandora/pseuds/LittlePryingPandora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter had been planning since the day he was resurrected. He deserved to be alpha, and he was not about to let the fact that Scott just happened to be a 'true alpha' stop him from getting what he deserved.</p><p>However, he didn't properly consider just what role Stiles might play in all of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ear-Reddening Move

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't written Fanfic in about ten years. Inspired by Steter week. Feedback is always appreciated. Unbeta'd, and unsure about tags. Let me know if I missed anything! Most definitely a work in progress, and not sure when I'll be updating. Something to keep in mind if you're on the fence about reading!

Peter watched.

Well, that's not all Peter did. Peter watched and _planned_. He had plans upon plans. He had contingency plans. Hell, his contingency plans had contingency plans. The only thing he did not have a plan for was one Stiles Stilinski.

Stiles, with his ridiculous moles and his slim hips, had a way of overcoming all of Peter's expectations. He hadn't agreed to the bite (and Peter had been nice enough to _offer_ and not just _take_ ), he'd held his own against the stupid Blake bitch, and he'd somehow managed to outfox a nogitsune. As much as Peter was loath to admit it, the boy was both surprising and intriguing ﹘ a dangerous combination, in his mind. So Peter did his best to be extra careful around Stiles, to watch him a little closer than the others, to stifle his own actions, especially the less savory ones, around the kid.

Despite these precautions, Stiles once again managed to surprise Peter by showing up at the loft, at two o'clock in the morning, with bags under his eyes. Just by looking at him, Peter could tell it had been days since the kid had properly slept. He was swaying on his feet, barely able to keep himself upright. Peter inhaled deeply, but all he could smell on the kid was dried sweat and desperation, no alcohol. Interesting.

Peter opened the door all of the way, finally snapping Stiles out of whatever had made his eyes glaze over. Stiles slowly blinked several times before looking up at Peter, who crossed his arms and smirked.

"Well, well. Mr. Stilinski, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Peter asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Fuck," Stiles muttered, "Is Derek around?"

"Well, I suppose that depends on what your definition of 'around' is, seeing as he's certainly not around the door."

"Fuck off, Peter. Is he home or not?"

 _Too easy_ , Peter thought. He shrugged his shoulders and turned back towards the living room, leaving the front door open. "Yes and no."

The door slammed shut behind him, and he could hear Stiles' footsteps coming up behind him. The slight increase in his heart rate also gave away the fact that Stiles was getting angry. Even better.

"God damn it. For once in your life could you just give a straight answer?"

"Maybe you, for once in your life, should try asking a clear question. No, Derek isn't currently in our apartment. Yes, he is at our old, burned down, shell of a 'home.' Satisfied?" Peter once again turned to face Stiles, smirk still firmly in place.

"Oh," Stiles said, clearly taken aback. Ha. That makes two of them who can be surprising. "Well, shit. Any idea when he’ll be back?"

Peter just shook his head and made his way into the kitchen. At the very least, this should give him some amusement, might was well have something to drink while he waited. After a couple of seconds, he heard Stiles follow him. Perfect.

Ignoring Stiles﹘or appearing to ignore Stiles while listening very closely, whatever﹘Peter reached into the fridge and pulled out a beer. He took several long swigs before turning around to face him again. Stiles was resolutely staring at his feet, shuffling them slightly every couple of seconds. Peter took another sip, and waited.

Finally, Stiles took a deep breath, and looked up at Peter. “I can’t sleep.”

“And you’re telling me this, why? Hoping I can tire you out?” He asked with a leer. Sometimes he just can’t help himself.

Stiles actually snorted at that, before looking back down at the ground. “You wish. I just needed to get out of the house. Talk to someone. Just, not be alone, you know?”

Surprisingly enough, Peter did have a pretty good idea. He had nights like those, where being alone with his thoughts for another second would drive him to do something rash, something that hadn’t fully had time to develop. Usually on those nights Peter went to a bar and found the most willing body to take out back. Typically to fuck, but on one occasion he’d run into a hunter, and that had lead to an _extremely_ satisfying chase of a different sort.

Rather than sharing all of this with Stiles, Peter responded with the Hale eyebrow raise (patent pending). “And you couldn’t call one of your friends for that? Or, hell, actually call Derek rather than driving all of the way over here?”

Stiles blushed at that, but rather than leaving, he chose to answer. Apparently he was that desperate. “I, I tried calling Derek, but he didn’t answer. And I can’t really call anyone else, not after...not after everything last month.”

 _Ah, should’ve seen that one coming_. Peter set his bottle down on the counter, and slowly approached Stiles. He stopped when he was about a foot away, when the stench of guilt became too overpowering. (Not like Derek’s guilt. No, that was a sweet bouquet Peter couldn’t get enough of. But, for whatever reason, he didn’t like it on Stiles. Maybe because it wasn’t put there by Peter himself, rather by some stupid fox that should have stayed out of what wasn’t his.)

“Look, Stiles. I, honest to god, cannot believe that I’m the one saying this right now, but you know that wasn’t you, right?”

Stiles snorted again, but it sounded wrong this time. It sounded almost like a sob.

“Christ, kid. We all know it wasn’t you. I know for a fact everyone’s already told you this, even that asshole Argent.” Peter can’t keep the sneer off his face at the mention of that name, but he pushed on. “It’s not your fault that people got hurt. And it sure as shit is not your fault that that Allison girl died.”

At this, Stiles really did sob. He slowly shook his head, and Peter’s eyes flashed blue. He was suddenly gripped with a desire to hit Stiles, make him see reason. Instead, he took a deep breath, and squatted down in order to be in Stiles’ line of sight. Stiles glanced at him, then looked away.

“Listen to me. I have _literally_ nothing to gain by telling you this. But your snivelling is pathetic, so pay attention. It’s. Not. Your. Fault. You were possessed. The nogitsune was in control, and you just happened to be along for the ride. Take it from me, I know what it’s like to kill, and you just don’t have it in you.”

Peter expected Stiles to retreat at the reminder of who, of what, Peter is. Instead, he took a deep breath and nodded his head slightly, before wiping away the tears. Peter nodded as well, before returning to his beer. They eyed each other carefully, neither one feeling the need to break the silence that had fallen. When Peter finished his beer he simply walked out of the kitchen, with Stiles right behind him.

Peter sat down in the armchair, and Stiles plopped down on the couch. He stretched his legs out, and rested his head on the armrest closest to Peter. Rather than commenting on this, Peter simply turned on the TV, and flicked on to some infomercial that seemed to be a device dedicated solely to slicing butter. (And, really? Were humans really that inept?) They watched in silence for several minutes, before Stiles spoke up again.

“I’m scared that when I wake up, I won’t be me.”

Peter nodded. Again, that was a feeling he knew. Except Peter had been right, and by the time he woke up, he was no longer “him” anymore.

“You captured the damn thing. It’s not getting out anytime soon. You should be more afraid about a psychopathic werewolf murdering you in your sleep.” Peter turned to Stiles with his most gruesome grin.

  
Stiles actually laughed at that. Full on laughed, not just a snort. Huh. That was kind of a nice sound.

“I suppose you have a point.” Stiles muttered, stifling a yawn.

The silence descended again, and before long, Peter heard Stiles’ heart rate slow, and his breathing even out. Apparently, the kid really did just need to talk. Peter turned off the TV, and slowly got to his feet. He stood over Stiles for a moment, just listening to him breath. Without really knowing why, he ran his fingers through Stiles’ hair. Stiles sighed softly, and the faintest trace of a grin crossed his face. Peter’s lips twitched as well, but then he heard Derek pulling up outside, and figured it would be best for him to get back to his room. He let the sound of Stiles’ heartbeat lull him off to sleep.

\-----------------------------------------------

The next morning, Peter awoke feeling more energized than he had in a long time. He wasn’t sure why, (ok, maybe he had an inkling) but it suddenly felt like all of his plans were just a little bit closer than they had been before. And that was definitely a pleasant thought.

He walked out of his room to find Stiles still asleep on the couch. Although not a surprise (Peter’s pretty sure he could have heard the snoring even without his werewolf senses), it’s still a pleasant sight. Stiles’ mouth hung slightly open, and his shirt was somehow rucked up almost to his armpits. Very nice.

At a slight cough from the kitchen, Peter looked up to find Derek watching him closely. Rather than acknowledge his nephew, he decided to head toward the coffee pot. That was just about the only good thing about his nephew, he always had the best coffee.

“So, what is Stiles doing passed out on our couch?” Derek whispered.

“Well, I certainly wasn’t going to let him sleep in my bed,” Peter retorted, “though he would be welcome for other reasons.”

Apparently, Derek was becoming too used to Peter, because all he did was roll his eyes. Stiles snuffled before popping his head up over the armrest.

“Derek!” Stiles exclaimed. He sat up quickly, and started rearranging his clothes. Peter was unsurprised to smell arousal wafting from Stiles. That was his default reaction to Derek, it seemed. Peter did _not_ grit his teeth at this, cause he was above such things, damn it.

“Stiles.” Derek said, “Care to explain why you’re sleeping on my couch?”

“Well,” Stiles said, hanging his head, “Peter wouldn’t let me sleep in his bed.”

It was Peter who snorted this time. Huh, maybe Stiles wasn’t quite as asleep as he’d thought. Derek glared at Peter, before turning his focus back to Stiles, who just smiled.

“Fine. Whatever. Just don’t make a habit of it.” Derek grumped, before getting off of his stool and heading to his room. Stiles watched him go, paying particular attention to his ass, and Peter watched Stiles. When the door to Derek’s room slammed, Stiles turned around to face Peter. He was no longer smiling, but looked resigned. Peter took a sip of his coffee while waiting to hear whatever angry admonitions Stiles might have up his sleeve.

“Thanks for last night.” Stiles muttered.

Peter quirked his eyebrow, and waited for him to continue.

“I mean, you’re right. Everyone’s told me that it wasn’t my fault. But it’s hard to believe them. They’re all so good. They wouldn’t understand what it’s like to know that your hands have ended someone’s life.”

“Like I said last night, they were only yours in the loosest sense of the word. That’s like being upset about starving children in Africa. Your affluence may hurt them in the long run, but it’s certainly not your fault.”

Stiles face fell, and he again ended up staring at his shoes. “Great, now I feel guilty about that too. Some help you are.”

But, Stiles smiled slightly before pulling out his phone. “Oh shit, is it really ten? I can’t remember the last time I slept this late. Dad’s going to pitch a fit when I get home.”

Peter rolled his eyes, and drained the last of his coffee. It was still a little too hot to drink that fast, but Peter happened to enjoy the burn. “It’s winter break. He can’t mind that much.”

Stiles shook his head, “After...everything, he’s been even more protective. I better go. Thanks again.” Stiles headed to the door, and threw a small wave over his shoulder. To Peter’s surprise, he found himself waving back, even though Stiles couldn’t see. He glared at the hand as if it had personally offended him.

After refilling his cup of coffee, Peter sat down in his armchair. He’d already managed to convince Derek to waste his alpha powers on Cora, now it was just a matter of stealing Scott’s. That power belonged to him. And he was going to get it back, no matter what. He couldn’t help but think that maybe Stiles could, unwittingly, help him with that. Peter allowed his grin to fully overtake his face. _Yes_ , he thought, _Stiles should work quite well_.

Peter spent the whole day planning. He thought of ways upon ways of getting Stiles alone, of ingratiating himself with the boy, getting him to trust Peter. Some were, admittedly, more far-fetched than others (running into him at The Jungle might scare him more than help), but he was positive at least one of them would work. Then, Stiles surprised him again by showing up once more that night.

Derek was out again. (Supposedly at the house, but Peter was beginning to have his doubts. He never did smell like ash or rot when returning, though occasionally he smelled like dirt.) So when Peter opened the door, he didn’t even bother to greet Stiles, he simply turned away and looked at his watch.

“Hmm, eleven thirty this time. Surely some of your friends must be awake for you to torture.”

Stiles stopped in his track at the word, and Peter mentally berated himself.

“I shouldn’t have said that.” It was the closest he could make himself come to an apology.

Stiles looked back at the door, and took a couple of steps towards it. “No, no. You’re right. I shouldn’t have come over here. Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

Before Stiles could go any further, Peter pushed passed him and closed the door. Unfortunately, this put his chest right next to Stiles’, and he couldn’t help noticing the increase in his breathing rate. Messed up again. He quickly walked to his armchair and collapsed in it, rubbing his temple.

“I don’t think before I speak. You know that. It’s fine. Just sit down.”

Stiles huffed, but did as he was told. “I don’t need to be a werewolf to know that’s a lie. You’re a calculating son of a bitch﹘you always think before you speak.”

Peter eyed him appraisingly, and Stiles locked eyes with him. Even though he was still nervous, he refused to back down. Peter finally nodded.

“Fine. I am a calculating son of a bitch. But this one got away from me.”

This time, Stiles was the one to eye him carefully. Finally, he nodded like he agreed, and turned to face the television, even though it was off. They sat like that for several minutes. Peter stared straight ahead, and every once in a while Stiles would glance over at him. Finally, Stiles took a deep breath before propping his feet up on the coffee table. He was obviously trying to be nonchalant, but Peter was hardly fooled.

“So,” Stiles finally said, “Derek’s not around?”

“Your powers of observation are astounding.”

“Shut up. Peter. I’m just trying to make conversation.”

Peter finally gave in and looked over at Stiles, “And why, exactly is that?”

“Same reason as last night, I guess. Can’t talk to Scott or Lydia. Isaac’s gone off with Mr. Argent. Derek’s not answering his phone. And Malia, Malia just doesn’t understand anything. She’s still messed up from being a coyote for so long. And I’m trying to be friends with her, but she, she just doesn’t understand. Which is probably something I should have realized sooner.”

Stiles never broke eye contact through his speech. And Peter found it hard not to react at Malia’s name. That was something he was still working on, something he was still trying to factor into his plan. But then exactly what Stiles said sank in.

“What do you mean, sooner?”

Stiles blushed. And not just a little redness in his cheek, but a blush that went all the way down his neck. Peter was enthralled.

“Uh. Well, to be fair...I was a little out of it myself. But when I was in Eichen House we-” And then Stiles somehow managed to blush even redder, and apparently couldn’t finish his sentence.

Even Peter was impressed with himself. He somehow managed not to wolf out. Though his every instinct was telling him to. Obviously those twits had kept their mouths shut about Malia. Peter was simultaneously grateful that they’d been smart enough not to share that information (he would have made Lydia pay if she had, Allison would have been safe, seeing as she was already dead and what not), and upset, because if they had Stiles obviously wouldn’t have shared that story. Peter took a deep breath, and managed to grin at Stiles.

“Now, now Stiles. Color me impressed. Finally managed to lose that pesky V-card, huh?”

Stiles’ head shot up so fast Peter was impressed that he didn’t get whiplash. “What? No! It wasn’t like that! We just made out a little. For christ’s sake, Peter, I had enough wits about me not to get freaky in some dusty basement.”

Peter can’t help but laugh. “'Get freaky,' Stiles? I guess that V-card is still hanging around if you can’t even say fuck.”

“I can too say fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.”

Peter’s amusement caused him to reach more rashly than was perhaps wise. But some opportunities just can’t be missed. He got up from his chair and slid on the couch next to Stiles.

“Sure you can say fuck, but can you talk about fucking someone? About what it feels like to have their mouth around your cock? To feel their slick skin slide against yours? Or the tight heat of them wrapped around you?”

Stiles’ reaction was even better than Peter could have hoped. His pupils were dilated, his lips were slightly parted, and that heady scent of arousal was filling the air. All Peter could think about was biting down on his lower lip to see what other reactions he could draw out. But the time wasn’t right. So instead, he leaned away and waited for Stiles to get himself under control. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the view in the mean time.

After a couple of seconds Stiles managed to get his breathing under control, and leaned away from Peter as well. However, his eyes stayed on Peter.

“I could say all of that.”

Peter snorted, “Sure.”

“No, really,” Stiles said, leaning back in, “I can talk about fucking. About pushing someone up against the wall. Of crushing their lips with mine. Trailing my lips down their neck and chest. Pinning their hips down against the wall as I fall to my knees. Teasing their cock through their jeans until they can’t stand it.”

“Their cocks, huh?” Peter managed to grit out.

Stiles smirked, which was definitely a good look on him. “Sure, why not?”

Stiles scooted closer to Peter. And it was so tempting. His boy was right there. It would be so easy to close the last few inches between them. To take what he’d wanted since he first saw Stiles in the hospital. But that would be it. One and done. And he’d changed his plans, factored Stiles into them in a new way. And he couldn’t jeopardize that just yet. Instead, he stood up, but not quickly enough to miss the disappointment written on Stiles’ face.

“Way to prove me wrong, Stilinski. Looks like you have it in you after all.”

Stiles just grunted and pulled out his phone. Peter wasn’t sure exactly what to do, but he knew he had to get away. He walked to his room, and heard Stiles sigh and stand up before he could close the door. Peter took a deep breath, and grabbed one of the blankets off his bed. He strode back out before Stiles could make it to the door.

“Here,” he said, thrusting the blanket out. “You can hang out here until Derek gets back, if you want. Whine to him for a change.”

Stiles looked at the blanket, and then back at Peter.

“Or you can leave. Your choice.” Peter dropped the blanket on the floor, and went back to his room. He heard Stiles grab the blanket before sitting back down on the couch. Good. Peter closed the door to his room, and listened carefully. It sounded like Stiles was laying down on the couch, and he soon heard the sound of a phone vibrating. Apparently, he decided to stay.

Peter laid down on his bed, and slipped his hand under his sweats. Fuck, he’d been half hard since Stiles started talking, and he hadn’t even said much. But it had been enough to picture, apparently. He could clearly picture Stiles’ mouth against his, against his chest, and it was easy enough to get him fully hard. His grip tightened as he imagined Stiles mouthing at the hard line of his cock through his jeans. God, it had been so long since he’d gotten a blow job. He hadn’t had one since﹘

Well, there went his erection. Peter sighed, and rolled onto his side. One day, maybe he could think about it some more. But he wasn’t there yet. Instead, he decided to sleep, and work on phase two tomorrow.

\-----------------------------------------------

When he woke up in the morning, Peter could hear Derek in the kitchen, and what sounded like Stiles tapping his leg against the floor. Better get out there before things got too out of hand.

When Peter walked into the kitchen, Stiles glanced at him and blushed before turning back towards Derek. Derek looked between the two of them, and went back to making coffee. How ‘bout that, apparently he could make intelligent decisions every once in a while.

“Good morning!” Peter said, with all of the cheeriness he could manage.

Derek grunted, and Stiles nodded his head.

“Well, aren’t you two chipper. Did I interrupt something?”

“Actually,” Derek said, “Stiles and I were discussing how everything’s going for him. Apparently our alpha isn’t doing such a great job of making sure Stiles knows he’s pack.”

Stiles whimpered, and glared at Derek. Peter just raised his eyebrow, “Our alpha?”

Both Derek and Stiles were glaring at Peter now, not exactly a new situation.

“Yes, Peter, our alpha. Unless you’ve decided to become an omega?” Derek asked.

“But, Scott, really? He’s still in high school. I’m not entirely sure that his balls have dropped yet.”

Apparently, that was enough to get Stiles’ hackles up.

“Do you have someone better in mind? In case you don’t remember, you went on a violent rampage when you were the alpha. And when sourwolf here was alpha, he murdered you, and turned a bunch of misfits. Who he then couldn’t protect! So, I’d be tempted to say Scott’s about the best alpha we could ask for!”

Derek laid his head down and groaned as Stiles made his way to the door. Peter managed not to smile, but just barely.

“So, if you’re willing to stand up to an admitted serial killer and a﹘whatever Derek is, then surely you can stand up to your best friend," Peter calmly commented.

Stiles paused for a second, before grunting and continuing to the door. He made sure to slam it on his way out. Peter approved. He liked feisty Stiles.

Peter turned back to the kitchen and filled up a coffee cup. Derek watched him closely.

“You’re weird, you know that? What’s with you and Stiles?”

Peter shrugged, “He’s fun to mess with. Much more...volatile than the rest of the kids.”

Derek nodded, and took a couple of steps closer to his uncle. “Yeah, he’s a kid. I don’t really buy this whole ‘reformed Peter’ thing, so you would do well to remember exactly where you stand in this pack.”

Peter set his coffee cup down and closed his eyes, lest Derek see them flair blue. He took a deep breath before smiling and walking back to the living room. “I’m hurt, Derek. I haven’t murdered anyone in months. Clearly my reformation is working better than you think.”

Derek raised his eyebrows and snorted. “Sure. What happened to Jennifer, by the way?”

Peter paused for a second, before continuing on his way. Apparently his nephew wasn’t as dim as he thought. “Like I said, months, Derek. Nobody’s perfect. Besides, bitch deserved it.”

Peter’s smile came back when he heard a chuckle come from the kitchen. Maybe ‘blood-thirsty’ was a hereditary trait after all.

\-------------------------------------------

That night, Stiles didn’t show up. Peter wasn’t exactly surprised, he’d pushed hard that morning, and he was willing to bet that it would be a little while before Stiles would be willing to come back. Which was fine. After the previous night, Peter could use a little time as well.

Peter should know better by now. Stiles showed up the next night. This time, he reeked of cheap alcohol, with just an undertone of arousal. Unfortunately, Peter’s luck had completely run out. Derek was actually at home, for once, and he happened to be the one to open the door.

“Well, hey there, good lookin’” Stiles slurred, “Whatcha got cookin’?”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up higher than Peter could have imagined. Not good. Definitely not good. Stiles stumbled into the apartment and into Derek’s chest, and all Peter could see was red. This was not how it was supposed to happen.

“Stiles, you’re drunk,” Derek said, grabbing Stiles’ arms and pulling him away.

Peter wanted to pull Stiles away. To pull Stiles into him instead. To make it perfectly clear to Derek just whom Stiles belongs to. But he didn’t. Because he has some self-control, damn it. Instead, Peter stood up. He’d really love to leave the fucking apartment, but fucking Stiles was still blocking the door, and staring at Derek with those fucking doe eyes. And just fuck it all.

As carefully as he could, Peter walked into his room. Walked, not ran. And he shut the door. Not slammed it. It might have been a close call, but he managed it. He rested his head against the door. Pining over some sixteen year old kid. Christ, what was his life coming to?

“Derek,” Peter heard Stiles whimper. Werewolf hearing could be fucking inconvenient. “Derek, please.”

“Stiles, what are you doing?”

“Derek, please. Kiss me.” Peter’s worst nightmare came to life. He debated putting his head under a pillow and humming to keep the sound out. But he, apparently, is too much of a masochist, and chose to continue listening, barely daring to breathe.

“What? No, Stiles. What are you thinking?”

“Come on, Derek. I want you. Don’t you want me, too?”

Derek heaved a deep breath, and Peter heard him walk to the couch and collapse. Stiles whimpered.

“Stiles. I’m sorry. But no. I don’t feel that way about you.” Well, now. Peter honestly hadn’t expected that.

“Oh. Oh god. I’m such a fucking idiot. Fuck. I’m sorry. Fuck. That’s so﹘fuck. I’ll just, I’ll just leave. Sorry. Just-” Peter heard Stiles stumble back a few steps.

“Stiles!” The couch creaked as Derek stood back up and hurriedly took several steps. “Don’t leave. We’ve got to talk about this!”

“No,” Stiles laughed, mirthlessly, “No, we really don’t. What we really need to do is pretend that this never happened.”

“Stiles, let me explain.”

“No. I get it. Really. I’m sixteen and skinny and male and just, not at all what someone like you would be attracted to. It’s fine.”

“Stiles, that’s not it. It’s, look. It’s not that I’m not interested in you, I’m just not interested in _anyone_ like that.”

Stiles snorted, and it was more watery than Peter cared to hear.

“Sure. Ok. I can tell, seeing as you were fucking Ms. Blake not that long ago.”

“Exactly, Stiles. I was _fucking_ the darach. I wasn’t dating her. And she was a darach! And before her there was Kate. It’s not exactly a great track record. And it was just fucking Stiles. Not dating. I don’t date. I’m not interested in dating.”

Peter heard Stiles take a deep breath, and did the same. This was turning out to be a much more interesting conversation that Peter originally thought.

“So fuck me, then!” Stiles begged, “Or are you straight? Cause I really thought not, but, as I’ve already proven this evening, I’m an idiot. So maybe I’m wrong.”

“No, Stiles. I’m not straight.”

“So what’s the problem? Look, I get it. You just want a fuck. That’s fine. Just, please. I just. I just need _something_.”

“Stiles. Please. Against my better judgement, I actually care about you as a human being. God knows when that happened, but it did. And I can’t just fuck you. You’re pack.”

“So what? Who cares that I’m pack? Cause apparently it’s just you who thinks that! And I’m pretty sure you’re not the one who gets to decide who is pack or not.”

“For fuck’s sake, Stiles. That’s a totally different argument. One you need to have with Scott, ‘cause I guarantee you that he thinks you’re pack too. Look. Just, just calm down. I’ll do my best to explain it to you. Are you familiar with the queer spectrum?”

Peter could hear the derision in Stiles’ laugh at that. “Really, Derek? I’m the one you go to when you want research done, and I’m bisexual. Of course I’m familiar with it.”

Derek chuckled. Peter wanted to do the same, but refrained. “Of course. Sorry. Look, I’m aromantic. Yes, I happen to enjoy sex, but I’m really not interested in the romantic aspect of relationships. And with you we already have a relationship. There wouldn’t be that divide that I need. And so no, Stiles, I won’t fuck you.”

It was quiet for so long that Peter seriously started to consider going back out there to see what was happening. Finally, he barely heard Stiles whisper “Sorry.”

“Stop with the sorrys, Stiles. It’s not your fault. I get it. You’re sixteen, and your life kinda sucks. No offense.” Stiles’ chuckle actually sounded sincere. “So I understand why you would want something that feels good. But you’re barking up the wrong tree. Just, just try to focus on the things you can actually control for now. Like Scott. Actually sit down and talk to Scott.”

“Yeah, OK,” Stiles sniffled, “I’ll do that.”

“Just not right now. I assume your dad is still on the night shift, right?” Peter didn’t hear a response, but he’d paid enough attention to know that was true. “So crash here again. You can have my bed.”

“Thanks, but no thanks, Derek. I think my ego’s damaged enough without having to smell you while trying to sleep.”

“Ok, take the couch then. Just rest up, and first thing in the morning, talk to Scott.”

“Yeah, yeah. I heard you the first time.”

Peter heard the couch creak, and Derek head toward his room. Peter’s grin was so wide it was starting to hurt his face. That went better than in his wildest dreams. He had a better understanding of Derek (know your enemy, and all that), and Stiles was on his way to getting over his ridiculous crush. And, on top of that, he was more than likely nursing his broken heart while covered in a blanket that still smelled of Peter. He really couldn’t have asked for more.

The next morning, Peter woke up to the sound of the apartment door closing. After a quick listen and look around the apartment, it became obvious that both Derek and Stiles had left. Likely to finally have that conversation. At least Derek had had the decency to make the coffee first. He was very much looking forward to what was coming next.


	2. Hum As You Hitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much just porn. Fair warning.

After a week, Peter was starting to become concerned that maybe he had pushed Stiles too hard. He hadn’t seen him since the night he got drunk, and that was longer than he was expecting. He assumed that he would still come by to talk to Derek, if nothing else. After all, they’d appeared to have come to some arrangement, especially considering how often he saw Stiles’ name on Derek’s phone.

And Peter wanted to see Stiles. Well, wanted to see him one on one. Christmas Eve was tomorrow, and apparently their fearless alpha had decided that that meant the pack should get together and “bond.” And, surprisingly, that apparently included Peter. Which was more annoying than anything else. He saw enough of the stupid teenagers (excluding Stiles) when Beacon Hills was under attack, he didn’t want to see them when things were being quiet. But ingratiating himself with the pack would make everything else easier. So be it.

Unfortunately, "bonding" also meant that they were doing a “white elephant.” Peter was overwhelmed by how ridiculous this was. In fact, he hadn’t even picked out a gift yet, because really. What was he supposed to get that would be appropriate for a bunch of high schoolers? He was tempted to just buy a gift card and call it good.

But where was the fun in that? If he was going to be forced to spend time with these people, he figured he might as well make it as interesting as possible. So might as well spend a little extra on a gift. It wasn’t exactly like he was hurting for it or anything.

And so it was that Peter was randomly clicking around online when Stiles finally deigned to show his face around the loft again. This time, he hadn’t even bothered to knock, he just let himself in. Not that Peter was surprised, he had heard the footsteps on the stairs after all.

“Derek’s not here,” Peter said, not looking up from his computer.

“'Your powers of observation are astounding,'” Stiles mocked, collapsing on the couch.

Peter just ignored him, trying to find the most relevant information that he could. He was trying to make his gift as memorable, and shocking, as possible.

“I came here to talk to you.”

That got Peter’s attention. He looked up from the computer to find Stiles staring intently at him. “Oh, and what can I help you with, pray tell?”

“I assume you heard me and Derek the other night,” Stiles said, not breaking eye contact.

“Indeed I did. I must say, it was rather an enlightening conversation all around.”

Stiles blushed, but plowed on, “Look, Derek said that you were planning on coming to the party tomorrow night, and I would appreciate it if you would keep that conversation to yourself. It’s embarrassing enough that the pack knows that I have this ridiculous crush. I would rather they not know about my crushing rejection as well.”

“And what, exactly, might be in it for me?”

Stiles glared at Peter, unable to keep his derision off his face, “My undying gratitude?”

Peter rolled his eyes before focusing back on on the computer. Though Stiles captured his attention, this conversation was less amusing than he’d hoped.

“Eh, I think I’ll pass.”

“I’ll blow you,” Stiles stated, with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

And Peter was once again interested. “Oh?”

“Sure,” Stiles said, “I could use a distraction.”

“And what if I’m not interested in just being a distraction?”

“I don’t really know what to tell you. Take it or leave it, I guess.”

Peter did his best to focus on the computer, even though all he could think about was Stiles’ lips wrapped around his cock. “Leave it.”

“Seriously?” Stiles choked out, “Ok, whatever, zombie wolf.”

Stiles stood up and walked back to the door. Peter was up in a flash, and standing right next to the kid.

“How about I guarantee my silence, and I suck _your_ cock?” He asked with a smile.

Stiles took a deep breath. He stared intently at Peter’s lips, and couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away. He whispered something that sounded an awful lot like “Please,” to Peter’s ears.

Peter smiled ruefully before claiming Stiles’ lips in an unforgiving kiss. He really should have known better than this, but the boy was just so damn tempting and he really couldn’t wait any longer. He pressed harder up against Stiles, pinning him against the wall outside the doorway. His mouth plundered Stiles’, though Peter’s tongue never crossed the barrier of Stiles’ lips.

“Is this what you pictured, Stiles? Hard lips pressed against yours?” Peter grunted, pulling away just far enough to be understood.

Stiles groaned beneath him, and Peter regained his lips. “No, I imagine it’s not quite the way you hoped. After all, you’re stuck with me, and not my nephew.”

This time, Stiles outright moaned, and Peter finally gave in to his instincts and shoved his tongue into Stiles’ mouth. Stiles quickly parted his lips like Moses, and Peter couldn’t help but sigh at the sweet taste of surrender. Stiles tasted better than Peter ever could have imagined. Like a strange and heady combination of cotton candy and bacon. Peter quickly felt himself losing control, and barely managed to pull himself back.

“Fuck, kid. You can’t fucking wait for it, can you?” he asked, just barely pulling his lips away.

Again, Stiles moaned. Peter kissed him hard again, before gently bringing his lips down to his jaw and nipping his way downward.

“Fuck, Stiles,” Peter moaned, pulling Stiles shirt off to continue his downward journey. “Tell me about it. Tell me how much you’ve been thinking about this.”

Stiles gasped, and Peter heard something that sounded desperately like “Peter!”

And oh, Peter liked that. Liked the sound of his name on Stiles’ lips. Liked the desperation in his voice.

“That’s right,” Peter grunted. “Beg for it. Tell me how much you want it.”

“Please,” Stiles moaned, “Please please please.”

“Please what?” Peter asked, smirking against Stiles’ chest.

“Fuck. Please suck my cock,” he responded, bucking his hips against Peter.

Even though he had plans, Peter wasn’t super-human (ok, so maybe he was, but still). The broken quality of Stiles’ voice drove him to new highs. Stiles’ hips bucked uselessly against the wall. God, Stiles sounded good when he was begging. Peter slowly, torturously continued his lips’ journey down Stiles’ chest, pausing for a moment to tongue at Stiles’ belly button.

“That’s not the way that we ask for things,” Peter finally said, his tongue darting into the hole at Stiles’ stomach.

“Please, sir,” Stiles moaned. “Please, please suck me.”

“Mmm,” Peter responded, “Much better.” Peter quickly unbuttoned Stiles’ pants before mouthing at the outline that was clearly visible behind Stiles’ shorts.

“Please, Pete- sir. Please, sir!” Stiles exclaimed, bucking into the heat of Peters’ mouth.

“Well, since you beg so pretty,” Peter responded, pulling down Stiles’ underwear. He looked closely at the cock that sprung free. He had to take a moment to admire it. It was long, and curved slightly upward. Though not quite as thick as Peter’s own, he certainly had no issues with imagining it shoving harshly down his throat.

“Well, Mr. Stilinksi, it looks like you’ve been holding back on us.”

“For fuck’s sake, Peter,” Stiles said, grabbing hold of Peter’s hair, “Just get on with it already!”

Even though he could have easily resisted, Peter allowed Stiles’ hand to pull him closer, to pull his lips flush against his cock, but he did nothing but mouth along the firm line of it.

“Is this what you imagined?” Peter retorted, pinning Stiles’ hips against the wall.

Stiles managed to blush even deeper. It did seem to bare an astounding resemblance to his description the previous night. Even so, Stiles tightened his grip in Peter’s hair, and pulled harder.

“I imagined green eyes, rather than blue, if you must know.” Stiles sniped.

Peter glared upward, and was somewhat surprised to find Stiles meeting his eyes. He glared harder, and, before Stiles could even take a breath, he sucked down the head of Stiles’ cock. Stiles gasped, and thrust his head backwards.

“Fuck!”

Peter hummed around Stiles’ length before pulling back. “You know,” Peter said, pausing to run his tongue along Stiles’ length, “Derek’s eyes are frequently blue as well.”

Apparently, Stiles was too far gone to respond. Instead, he just moaned and tried to thrust his hips. However, Peter’s hold on his hip was too tight, and he couldn’t get any momentum. Instead, he continued to moan as Peter once again took his cock into his mouth.

“Oh shit,” Stiles moaned, “Fuck, Peter. Don’t stop.”

Peter felt his cock pulse in his jeans. He pulled away just long enough to grit out, “Say it again.”

Peter looked up to see Stiles staring intently down at him. The grip on his hair pulled harder, and Peter couldn’t suppress his own moan.

“Fuck. Yeah Peter, keep going.”

Stiles continued to moan Peter’s name as Peter did everything he could think of to pleasure Stiles. He swirled his tongue around the head of Stiles’ cock. He bobbed up and down. He sucked as hard as he could. Fuck. It had been ages since someone said Peter’s name with as much reverence as Stiles did. Before long, Stiles was right on the edge of coming.

“Please, Peter,” He breathed, pulling Peter’s head until it was right up against his pelvic bone. “Please!”

And who was he to deny such beautiful desperation? Peter swallowed around Stiles’ cock, taking him as deep as he could. He cupped Stiles’ balls with his left hand, deftly rolling them between his fingers. Soon, Stiles was bucking wildly into the tight heat of Peter’s mouth (or, at least as much as Peter would allow) and Peter kept his hands firmly in place while sucking down as much of Stiles’ release as possible.

“Peter!” Stiles exclaimed one last time before sliding down the wall. Peter wasted no time in claiming Stiles’ lips. He thrust his tongue into the eager young mouth, and was not surprised to find Stiles tonguing back at him, as if trying to get every taste possible off of Peter.

Peter and Stiles moaned at the same time, both of them pulling away to lean against one another. After several deep breaths, Stiles managed to push against Peter’s chest, encouraging him to lean away. Peter complied, opening one eye to stare at Stiles.

Stiles, on the other hand, was closely keeping an eye on Peter’s pants. He very clearly still had an erection, one that twitched under the close scrutiny of Stiles.

“See something you like?” Peter couldn’t help but ask.

And, to his own surprise, Peter blushed as Stiles licked his lips while staring at his cock.

“Yeah,” Stiles whispered. “Let me suck your cock.”

“Not tonight,” Peter grunted. His own resolve was exceedingly surprising. He deserved a fucking medal.

“Why not?” Stiles squawked.

“Because,” Peter said, “You’re still royally fucked up from the fox. Try again tomorrow.”

For a moment, Stiles looked like he was going to argue. But, he quickly schooled his expression before standing, pulling up his pants, and buttoning them. He  glared down at Peter, who was refusing to move.

“Ok then,” Stiles said with a nod, “See you tomorrow.”

With that, Stiles left the loft, slamming the door behind him. Before he knew what he was doing, Peter whipped out his cock and was thinking about puffy lips and choking gasps. When he pictured shoving himself down Stiles’ throat, Peter came with a growl, coating the floor with long stripes of white.

As he collapsed, exhausted, on to the floor, Peter’s only thoughts were of Stiles, and how fun the next day was going to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one wasn't as long. I just wanted to get something up today. I'm going to try to update again tomorrow, but I'm not sure how much I'll be able to write on days when I'm working.


	3. Son of a Bitch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who doesn't know what a white elephant is, check out the wiki (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/White_elephant_gift_exchange) it does a great job of explaining it.

Peter’s never been particularly well known for being punctual. He always preferred to make an entrance. As such, he was the last one to the party the next day. He was admittedly disappointed when no one looked up from where they were gathered around the table (ok, maybe just upset that Stiles didn't look up), but he didn't let it show, and instead placed his present next to the others on the table.

Unfortunately, there’s also an obscene number of cinnamon scented candles on the table, and Peter can’t figure out who’s given each one. Apparently, Scott actually could plan ahead, if only for the little things.

“Great!” Scott exclaimed, bounding over. “Now that Peter’s here, let’s get this started!”

As the rest of the group approached the table, Peter swallowed his pride and turned to congratulate Scott, “Good plan with the candles, stops us wolves from smelling what’s inside.”

“Oh!” Scott said, eyeing the candles, “I hadn’t even noticed that. Good job, Stiles!”

Of course, should've guessed that one. Peter finally looked around at the assembled group. There were the expected members, Kira, who wrapped her arms around Scott’s waist once she was close enough; Lydia and Malia, who were apparently discussing some inane TV show that had the werewolf lore “all wrong”; Derek, who stood close by Scott, watching him carefully; and, of course, there was Stiles. Stiles, who was standing next to someone he had _not_ expected to see, some muscled teenage punk.

Peter thought he might have seen him around the high school at some point, hanging off one of those god forsaken twins. (What was his name? David? Daniel?) And he was standing entirely too close to Stiles for Peter’s liking.

“So, everyone knows the rules, right?” Scott asked.

Everyone around the table nodded as Scott pulled out a few cards. “Alright! Everyone grab a card. Whoever grabs the ace will go first, and we’ll continue from there.”

Peter barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes, and grabbed a card when Scott paused in front of him, pulling out the ace. Fantastic.

Scott handed out the rest of the cards, and looked at Peter expectantly. Peter took a deep breath, and approached the table. He grabbed the first box that he saw. It was small and plainly wrapped. Good enough. Stiles giggled slightly, and Peter raised his eyebrow.

“Good choice, man,” Stiles said with a grin.

Peter unwrapped the gift and opened it. He pulled out a beanie in that shape of a panda’s head, and glared at Stiles. “I assume this was your doing?”

Stiles laughed outright, and enthusiastically nodded his head. There were a few giggles from the rest of the group, and even Derek smiled. Well, it certainly wasn’t to his taste, but it seemed to be helping the group forget about his psychopathic tendencies.

“Put it on!” Stiles begged, and the boy next to him elbowed him in the ribs. Daniel (pretty sure it was Daniel) eyed Peter appraisingly. Huh, so he was definitely gay. Peter vowed to get him as far away from Stiles as possible.

“Absolutely not.” Peter said, taking a nearby seat and putting the hat on his lap. “Though I’m sure someone here would absolutely love a chance to wear it.”

Everyone shook their heads, and looked back at the table.

“Spoilsport,” Stiles muttered, before turning to the kid next to him. “Alright Danny, your turn.”

Danny (not Daniel, good to know) approached the table and unwrapped a stuffed wolf. Kira smiled, saying it was hers. Scott was up next, and took the wolf (no surprise there), and Danny chose a box containing a gift card to Best Buy from Scott. Kira took a scarf from Lydia, and Lydia took the glass of wine that Derek had bought.

“Supplying underage kids with alcohol, Derek? Shame shame.” Peter said.

“Like they’ve never drank before,” Derek responded before opening a gift containing a flash drive.

“That’s a special program I made,” Danny said, “It’ll unlock damn near any computer just by plugging it in. Thought it might come in handy.”

There were muttered exclamations all around, and even Peter had to admit that it was impressive. Stiles smiled beatifically up at Danny. Peter's grip on the beanie may have tightened, slightly.

“Thanks, Danny,” Derek said, shaking his hand, “This is really amazing.”

Malia was up next, and she looked round at all the gifts that had been handed out before opening up one on the table to reveal packaged deer meat.

“Didn’t you buy that?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah,” Malia said, “And it’s clearly the best gift here.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, and approached the table. The only gift left was Peter’s, well, that worked out well. Stiles opened the box, squeaked, and quickly closed it again. He glared at Peter.

“There is no way that that cost less than twenty dollars.”

Peter shrugged, “I thought that was more of a suggestion than a hard rule.”

“What is it?” Scott asked, moving closer.

“Nothing!” Stiles exclaimed, hiding it behind his back. However, Danny was quicker than Peter would have expected, and grabbed the box out of his hand. He dashed away and opened it. His eyes widened as he looked at Peter, who winked at him.

“Damn, dude,” Danny said, pulling out a large vibrator. Stiles turned even redder, and Peter grinned.

“Oh my god,” Scott moaned, burying his face in Kira’s neck.

“Well, maybe mine’s only the second best gift,” Malia said. Lydia and Danny nodded their agreement.

“That is so wrong,” Stiles said, covering his face with his hands. Derek looked over at Peter, who shrugged.

“What can I say?” Peter said, “I figured it was something anyone could enjoy.”

The girls gathered around Danny, examining Peter’s gift closely. Peter chuckled, before walking over to the refreshment table and pouring himself a drink. Soon, Danny slid up next to him.

“That’s quite a gift,” Danny said.

“Mmm, I thought so.”

Danny leaned against the table, and smiled at Peter. “I wouldn’t have minded getting that one myself.”

Peter smiled back. He let his gaze travel up and down Danny’s body before responding. “You must be new around here. I don’t think your friends would take too kindly to you trying to become...friendly with me.”

“Yeah, the whole 'killed your niece and attacked Lydia thing' is definitely a point against you.”

“Don’t forget ‘turned Scott,’ and ‘went on a murderous rampage.’ But you try spending six years in a catatonic state and see if your priorities aren’t a little skewed,” Peter said, leaning closer. “However, dying has a tendency to change your point of view.”

Danny nodded, and leaned in closer as well, “Yes, I imagine it would. You’ve got quite a storied past.”

Peter smiled, before turning to face the rest of the group. Everyone seemed to be in conversation with each other, except for Stiles and Derek, who were staring intently at Peter. Derek just shook his head, again, and turned to the rest of the group. Stiles, on the other hand, was glaring daggers at Peter. Good.

The rest of the party continued uneventfully. Silly conversations about school and televisions shows. Peter made sure to place himself between Danny and Stiles whenever he could. Not that it was difficult, Danny seemed to take every opportunity possible to stand near Peter. Even so, Peter was relieved when Derek started to make excuses to leave, and quickly did the same.

They walked to their cars together, and Derek was quiet until they got near the Camaro.

“What are you planning, Peter,” he asked, fishing his keys out.

“Whatever do you mean, dearest nephew?”

Derek snorted, and unlocked the door, still not looking at Peter. “You know exactly what I mean. What’s up with you and Stiles.”

Well, that wasn’t what he expected. “Stiles? I barely spoke to him.”

Derek snorted even harder, and finally faced his uncle. “Sure, but I’m not an idiot. You really didn’t do much to get the smell of sex out of the apartment.”

Peter shrugged. “The kid was horny, you said no, and I was around. That’s all there is to it.”

“Oh, so you weren’t trying to make him jealous in there?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Peter said, walking away.

“Sure. I’m headed out to the house. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Peter waved over his shoulder, and headed back to the loft. Shortly after he walked in the door, his phone chimed. Peter smiled when he saw Stiles’ name next to his text message notification.

**Do you just have a thing for underage kids?**

Peter typed out a response on the way to his bedroom.

_**Did you consider the possibility that underage kids have a thing for me?** _

**Whatever, you creeper. Just leave Danny alone.**

_**Does that mean I don’t have to leave you alone?** _

Peter couldn’t take his eyes off of his phone. But after ten minutes, he had to admit to himself that Stiles wasn’t responding. That just wouldn’t do. He waited another twenty minutes, and, swallowing his pride, he snapped a [picture](http://fc02.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2011/239/1/7/ian_bohen_and_his_panda_hat_by_lightningblueeyes-d480g8f.jpg), and sent it to Stiles. Within seconds, he had a response.

**Oh my god. That’s amazing. I’m totally forwarding that to Scott.**

_**That was a private picture, Stiles. Do not show that to anyone!** _

**Too late!!!**

Peter smiled to himself. He honestly didn’t care, hell, realistically it would further his plans.

_**Fine. But I feel like you owe me something in return. Maybe a picture of you using my gift?** _

**Oh god. You’re such a creeper.**

_**Like you mind.** _

Peter continued to watch his phone, but it took a little over five minutes for Stiles to respond this time.

**There’s no way you’re getting a picture. But I’ll let you know how much I like it after I get a chance to use it.**

_**Oh? And when might that be?** _

**Depends on how good it really is, I suppose. Dad’s working again tonight so we can have tomorrow together. Just got home.**

_**Call me.** _

Peter undressed while waiting for the call. His cock was already half hard just thinking about Stiles fucking himself with the dildo. He stroked himself slowly. Several minutes passed, and Peter was willing to admit that maybe Stiles wasn’t going to listen. Right as he was about to give up and take care of himself, his phone started ringing. He couldn’t help but grin as he answered the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is that not the best picture ever? Obviously, the background is wrong, but I'm hoping we can overlook that. Also, I'm aware that a program like that is probably unrealistic. But I figured werewolves are real, so what the hell. 
> 
> Whoo! Just barely made it for day three of Steter week (at least in my time zone). Sorry for the abrupt ending, but I wanted to make sure I had something for today. My goal is a chapter each day of Steter week, and your guys' kudoses and comments are what's driving me! Thanks for all the love!


	4. Didn't Even Masturbate with Our Own Minds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically just porn. Like you weren't expecting that....

“Hello?” Peter purred into his phone.

“Don’t you 'hello' me, you perv,” Stiles stuttered into the phone. It was clear that he was already breathing a little heavily.

“Oh?” Peter asked, reclining on his bed. He was fully hard now, and he gently played with the head of his cock as he listened to his boy.

“Just, shut up,” Stiles practically moaned into the phone. Peter could hear wet sounds issuing through the earpiece. Thank god for werewolf hearing.

“Then why would you call me if you didn’t want me to speak?”

“Ugh. Fine. You can talk. Just don’t sound so fucking smug.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible. But I’ll try. How about you start. Tell me what you’re doing.”

“What’s it sound like I’m doing, asshole?”

“Come now, Stiles. That’s not the way phone sex works.”

Stiles groaned, and Peter tightened his grip, slowly working his way up and down his length.

“Fine. I’m lying on my bed, and I’ve got two fingers up my ass, and my other hand wrapped around my dick.”

In that cast, Peter felt the need to thank god for speakerphone as well. “Fuck, Stiles,” he moaned. “That’s more like it. What are you picturing? Are you thinking about my fingers shoved deep inside of you?”

“Uhnn. Fuck. Now I am.”

“That’s right, Stiles. Imagine my hands on you, inside of you. Think about me stroking you as I slowly get you ready for my cock. I’d take it slow, so fucking slow. Wait until you were begging for it before giving you another finger.”

Stiles whined, “Please Peter, I need it.”

“I know you do, baby boy. Take your hand off your cock. I don’t want you going off too soon.”

Stiles groaned, but Peter could hear the soft slicking noise lessen.

“There you go,” Peter purred. “Keep stretching yourself.”

“It’s not enough, Peter.”

“Come on, Stiles. You know you’ve gotta ask nicer than that.”

Stiles moaned again, before stuttering “P-please sir. I need-I need more.”

“There you go, baby boy. Go ahead and give yourself another finger. You know mine are so much thicker than yours, though. So it won’t stretch you as good as I could.”

Peter focused his attention back on the head of his cock as Stiles groaned while he breached himself. Fuck, he sounded so good. Peter circled his hand around, and slowly pulled the foreskin back and forth over the tip, groaning at the combination of the feeling and the sounds that Stiles was making.

“Oh fuck, Peter. It feels so good.”

“That’s right, Stiles. Now I want you to carefully aim your fingers, avoid your prostate, I know you know where that is.”

Stiles groaned in frustration, and Peter didn’t even try to hide his moan in response.

“Fuck Stiles” he said, “You sound so good when you’re frustrated. Wish I could see you. See your brow knit in frustration, watch the sweat drip down your skin and lick it off while you writhe on my fingers.”

Stiles moaned even louder than before, and the sound of his fingers fucking in and out increased in tempo. Peter sped up his hand to match the pace, but kept his grip nice and loose. He wanted this to last.

“P-please sir. I want more.”

“God, you sound even better when you’re begging. But not yet, pet. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Stretch yourself more, make sure you’re nice and loose.”

Stiles groaned more, and his breath was hitching with every thrust into his body. Peter could picture it, Stiles laid out on his bed with his legs spread wide, three fingers shoving into his body. Fuck, he was delectable.

“There you go, Stiles. Get some more lube. Tell me honestly, do you think you’re loose enough, or do you need another finger?”

“Please sir! I can- I can take it. Fuck, I’m so hard. Please, please sir. I need more.”

Peter moaned again, and tightened his grip. If only he could be there.

“I know you do baby boy. Did you grab the lube?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good boy. Take your fingers out now.”

Stiles whimpered, but Peter could hear when he pulled his fingers out.

“There you go. Now take that lube, grab the present I bought you, and slather it on there. You know I was picturing you when I bought it, don’t you?”

“Fuck,” Stiles muttered. Peter could hear Stiles grabbing the dildo and coating it with lube.

“Make sure you get it nice and wet. It’s gonna be a stretch, beautiful, but I know you can take it.”

Stiles groaned again, and he was breathing so hard Peter was almost worried.

“When you’ve got it as wet as you can, I want you to slowly fuck yourself. And I mean slowly. You’ve gotta give yourself time to get used to it.”

“Please sir, I can take it.”

Peter growled, making his voice hard. “No, Stiles. You’ll take it slow. I’m not there to make sure that you’re ready, so I’m taking you on your word here. Don’t disappoint me.”

Stiles practically sobbed, but he seemed to listen at least, Peter couldn’t hear any hurried movements. However, he could hear the instant that Stiles breached himself. He whined so beautifully that Peter had to grab the base of his cock to keep himself from coming. Stiles took deep breaths, and Peter matched his rhythm, calming himself down enough to continue.

“It’s-it’s in, sir,” Stiles whimpered.

“Fuck, baby boy. You did so good. Just leave it there for a second, give yourself time to adjust. Go ahead and touch yourself again. Very lightly, just enough to take the edge off.

Stiles moaned loudly as Peter heard the sounds of his hand moving up and down his prick. Peter rolled his balls in his hands, not quite ready to fully grasp himself again.

“So good, Stiles. So good,” Peter growled into the phone. “I want you to start moving the dildo now. Slowly though. Slowly in and out. Imagine it’s me looming over you. Slowly pushing in and out of you, teasing you with my cock.”

Stiles moaned again, and whimpered every time that Peter heard the sound of the dildo pulling out. The pace quickly picked up, and he took a deep breath in order to control his voice.

“Stiles,” he said, his voice like gravel, “That doesn’t sound slow to me.”

Stiles whimpered and stuttered out “I, I know, sir. I’m s-sorry. But. Fuck. I just. I- I couldn’t h-help it. I was picturing y-you, picturing you. Picturing you f-fucking me. And, and I c-couldn’t help my-myself. Fuck, Peter, please. Please. I’m so close.”

And how could Peter resist that? He tightened his grip on his own cock. And matched his pace to that of Stiles’.

“That right, Stiles. You can’t wait, can you? Can’t wait until I’m fucking you, can you? You’re practically fucking gagging for it. Let me hear you. Come for me, Stiles. Come for me.”

Stiles keened, and his pace got even quicker before he groaned, “Peter!” and came. Peter was right behind him, hearing his name on Stiles’ lips enough to push him over the edge. For a couple of minutes, there was nothing but the sound of breathing on both sides of the line.

“Fuck,” Stiles finally managed to whimper.

Peter chuckled before responding, “Fuck is right. And we didn’t even get a chance to try out the vibrate function.”

Stiles laughed before Peter heard the sounds of rustling sheets.

“Shit,” Stiles said, “My bed’s a mess.”

“Better clean it up before Daddy dearest gets home.” Stiles grunted, and Peter rolled over to grab some tissues off of his night stand. His eyes caught on the clock, and he smiled even wider.

“Get to sleep kid. It’s late. Oh, and merry Christmas, by the way.”

It sounded like Stiles stumbled slightly while reaching for his phone. “Oh, what do you know. It’s 12:30. Merry Christmas, Peter.”

Peter snorted in acknowledgement. He waited for Stiles to hang up the phone, but instead just heard him breathing.

“Something else you needed?” Peter asked.

“Um,” Stiles sighed, Peter could practically hear him blushing. “Thanks for the gift. A solid ten out of ten. Would recommend.”

Stiles hung up before Peter could respond. Peter grinned before stretching out along his bed. Oh yes, things did seem to be going his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four days down, three to go!


	5. So many lines I've had to cross

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just barely made day five!

It was Christmas morning. And Peter was deliberating staying in bed. This was his first “official” Christmas since the fire (his memories from being in the coma were pretty hazy, and he’d like to keep it that way, thank you very much) and, therefore, the first one since the fire. Sure, Peter had alway been a bit of an asshole, but Christmas had always meant gathering with the family, and he’d enjoyed it. It was always nice to see everyone, to rejoice in the pack. Hell, Grant’s excitement alone was enough to make everything worth it.

But he still wasn’t thinking about Grant, or anyone else, if he could avoid it. The apartment was silent, so Derek was probably still out doing god knows what. Peter didn’t really blame him, if he had anywhere to go, he’d probably leave too. Get as far away from painful reminders as possible. He must be one such reminder to Derek, just as Derek was to him.

But, coffee was calling his name, so with a deep sigh, he heaved himself out of bed and went to the kitchen. The coffee was just about ready when Peter’s phone buzzed, he was only slightly surprised to see it was a text from Stiles.

**Merry Christmas, creeperwolf. Thanks for last night.**

_**It was my pleasure, believe me. Shouldn’t you be spending time with your dad?** _

**I am. Watching A Christmas Story, and dad’s nodding off in his chair. Gonna head over to have dinner with Scott and his mom. What are you doing today?**

_**Drinking coffee and debating the merits of spending the rest of the day in bed, alone, unfortunately.** _

Peter drank his coffee while waiting for a response. Maybe he should call Derek, wish him a merry Christmas. And a happy birthday. Was it his birthday? Or was that back in November? Peter had never been particularly good at dates.

**I can understand wanting to stay in bed all day, but on Christmas? That’s pathetic, even for you.**

_**Well, the rest of the pack has their families, and, as I’m sure you can imagine, I don’t exactly have a plethora of people to visit.** _

**God, you’re almost making me feel bad for being a social butterfly.**

_**Social butterfly? Please, besides Scott, the only reason you have friends is because of me.** _

**Really???? You’re REALLY trying to twist your fucking psychopathic murdering spree into a good thing??? You’re still fucking deranged. No wonder you don’t have any fucking friends, asshole.**

_**I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into bed with, Stiles.** _

**Who said anything about getting in bed?**

_**Please, the way you were moaning last night, it’s only a matter of time.** _

**God, you’re so fucking full of yourself.**

_**True, but you’d like to be full of me.** _

**Fuck you.**

_**In time, dear-heart.** _

Peter chuckled to himself, and briefly debated going out to a bar. Should be easy to pick up some lonely son of a bitch looking for a quick lay. But he was feeling more like murdering someone than screwing, and he was trying to curb those tendencies﹘at least for now. Instead, he went back to bed, pausing to pick out a book from the shelf. He read for a couple of hours without getting a response from Stiles, but he wasn’t really surprised. It could take a couple of days for Stiles to get over his shock. But it would be worth it when he did. This way, Stiles would have no option but to admit what he wanted, and to be fully aware of all that that meant.

Peter wanted him, there was no denying that, but he wanted all of Stiles. His heart and soul. It belonged to him already, it was just a matter of making sure that Stiles knew that as well.

Logically, Peter knew that fucking Stiles would only push him further out of the pack, but it would be worth it. Not only because he would get to fuck Stiles﹘and, honestly, Peter thought that was reason enough﹘but also because there was no way the pack would kick out Stiles, no matter how pissed off they were. Eventually, they’d learn to accept Peter too.

Sure, this was more of a long con than a quick solution, but if Peter could spend six years in a coma, he could definitely spend a few waiting for the pack to let down their defenses. And he’d have Stiles in his bed until then anyway.

At around five that night, Peter finally decided to bite the bullet and pull out his phone. He pulled up Derek’s number, and hit dial before he could change his mind.

“What happened?” Derek asked, after picking up on the first ring.

“Well, hello to you too, dear nephew.”

“Hello Peter,” Derek gritted out. “Now, what happened?”

“Nothing’s happened, Derek. I just wanted to wish you a merry Christmas. And, since it appears you won’t be returning to the loft, this appeared to be my only option.”

Derek was silent on the other line for several seconds before responding, “Merry Christmas to you too.”

“See now, that wasn’t so hard,” Peter said, before hanging up the phone. It had physically hurt him not to grit his teeth while talking to Derek, but he had managed it. One more stitch binding him to his nephew.

Peter flipped back through his text messages with Stiles. Maybe he’d said too much after all, but the sooner Stiles came to terms with his desires, the easier it would be for everyone involved.

He heard the door to the loft open a little after ten, then the soft footsteps of Derek approaching Peter’s door. He paused outside for several moments, as if he was debating knocking. Peter heaved a (internal) sigh of relief when Derek moved away. He’d had a hard enough time calling him, he damn sure did not want to see him today as well. Too many memories were tied up in his nephew, and he was avoiding as many of them as he could today.

Peter fell asleep that night after coming with the sounds of Stiles’ moans reverberating in his mind and his name on his lips. It wasn’t too bad of a Christmas, all things considered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the short chapter, and also the lateness. Unfortunately, writer's block and a shitty day made it hard. Wasn't even sure I was going to make it today.
> 
> Thanks again for all of the love, I can't tell you how much it means to me, honestly!!


	6. Look Up With Some Delight

It took less time than Peter had expected for Stiles to text him. In fact, it was only two days later that Peter’s phone beeped in the middle of his lunch.

 **Boorrrrrrred**.

Well, apparently Stiles was capable of being succinct.

**_And what, exactly do you propose I do about that?_ **

**Entertain me, obviously.**

**_Hoping for a repeat of the other night?_ **

**You’re such a creeper. Is it impossible for you to hold a simple conversation?**

_**Impossible? No. Boring? Certainly. And I thought you didn’t want to be bored.** _

**Whatever, should have known better than to text a zombie.**

_**You really need a new insult.** _

**Does it bother you? I’m sorry. How about “walker?”**

_**I’m certainly not that old, nor would anyone be dumb enough to put me into any kind of civil service.** _

**…..Are you for real???? How have you never watched the Walking Dead?**

_**The what?** _

**Oh my god. You’re killing me! It’s only the best show on television!!**

_**If you haven’t noticed, the television here is generally only used for news, or by you people when you come over.** _

**Me people? You mean, alive people?**

_**Ha. You’re so hilarious.** _

**About time you admitted it. For real, though, how have you not heard of it?!?**

_**There are better things to do with my time than watch some stupid show.** _

**What, like plotting to take over the world?**

_**Please, my plans are more reasonable than that. Beacon Hills should do nicely, though.** _

**Why do I even try with you?**

Peter stared at his phone for several minutes, trying to think of a response. But if he’s being honest, he’s not entirely sure why Stiles does. The kid is intelligent, he should know better than to get mixed up in all of the insanity that Peter embodies. But, for whatever reason, Stiles chose to get involved, and Peter certainly hoped that would continue. So, honesty it was.

_**Other than the orgasms, I’m not really sure either.** _

His phone stayed silent the rest of his lunch, which made sense. Stiles still had to come to grips with what it meant to be involved with Peter. And either he would continue on (which Peter wasn’t focusing on, because it never paid to get his hopes up), or it wouldn’t. Either way, Peter could continue with his plans, and he could levy whatever relationship they may or may not have to his advantage.

So Peter moved into the living room and sat down. It had been an uneventful few days, and he had spent the time reading. He’d missed several great books while he was otherwise engaged, and he’d slowly been making his way through them. But he hadn’t really sat down and planned in a while, and now seemed as good a time as any.

Peter wasn’t stupid (obviously), so these plans couldn’t be written down or typed up. Anything physical could be discovered. Instead, Peter kept all of his plans in his head. It wasn’t difficult, just a matter of refreshing his memory every once in a while to stay on top. Right now, he was just focusing on ingratiating himself with the pack. If he could get under their defenses, he could slowly get them to forget about the fact that he deserved to be the alpha, damn it. And then they wouldn’t see it coming when he finally regained it.

The Christmas party had been a good step. And the new members of the pack (Kira, Malia, and Daniel, no Danny; he really had to get that down) might not be as difficult to convince. They had undoubtedly heard stories ﹘ as Danny had already pointed out ﹘ but that didn’t mean that they truly understood what he had done. After all, Kira and Malia hadn’t even been around when he went on his last rampage. They hadn’t experienced that fear for themselves, and he’d done a good job of keeping himself under control (with just a couple minor exceptions), since he returned from the grave.

Peter was broken from his reverie by a knock at the door. Apparently he had been more lost in thought than he realized, he hadn’t even heard anyone approaching. Once he took the time to listen, he quickly realized that Stiles was at the door.

“It never fails,” Peter said as he opened the door.

“What?” Stiles asked, visibly confused as he came inside.

“You always manage to surprise me.”

Stiles blushed, clearly pleased, as Peter sat back down.

“So, Mr. Stilinski, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, um. I told you, I was bored?” Stiles ducked his head, and the statement came out as more of a question.

“Yes, I do remember that. But that still doesn’t explain why you came here. Unless you’ve reconsidered a repeat?”

Stiles blushed even deeper, Peter was frankly surprised by how red the boy could get.

“Actually, yeah, I, um, did reconsider that,” he said without looking up. Well now.

“So, you just thought you could show up, and I’d be willing?”

That got Stiles to look up. He was still red, but he met Peter’s gaze head on. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, kid, but I’m gonna have to pass.”

“What, why?” Stiles asked, stepping closer to Peter.

“Because,” Peter said with a malicious grin, “Only good boys get to come. And good boys know better than to make demands, don’t they?”

Stiles spluttered for a second, but when Peter only raised an eyebrow, Stiles nodded before hanging his head again.

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

Now that, that was better. That was something that was hard to resist. But Peter couldn’t appear weak at this point in the game.

“That’s right, Stiles, maybe you should take some time to consider these things before trying again.”

“Yes sir,” Stiles muttered, turning to the door.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

Stiles stopped in his tracks, slowly turning to face Peter again. “Home? You said no.”

“I said no orgasms. I did not say that you were allowed to leave.”

Stiles’ back stiffened, and he rolled his eyes. Yes, he definitely needed to learn.

“May I please leave, sir,” Stiles asked. Peter could practically taste the sarcasm.

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?” Stiles was clearly bracing for an argument, and he took another couple of steps closer to Peter. Peter only smiled benignly up at him.

“I mean no, you may not leave.”

“Fuck that,” Stiles said. He glared down at Peter, but Peter just continued to smile. Stiles huffed a breath, and turned towards the door. He took several steps before Peter finally spoke.

“If you leave now, then I won’t allow you to come for the rest of the week either.”

Stiles laughed, “Please, I’ve been jacking off for years. There’s absolutely no way you can stop me from coming for a week.”

Now it was Peter’s turn to laugh. He finally stood, and walked slowly towards Stiles, who seemed to be frozen in place. Sure, Stiles might be slightly taller than him, but Peter used all of his body mass to his advantage. Stiles’ resolve seemed to be crumbling.

“Sure, Stiles,” Peter said, slowly brushing his fingers along Stiles’ shoulder. “You could do that. But it wouldn’t be the same, would it?”

Peter took a firm grasp of Stiles’ upper arms, and Stiles whimpered. Peter could smell the powerful combination of fear and arousal dripping off of him. “It’s not the same when it’s just you, is it? I know you’ve tried the vibrator again since we talked, shoving it up your ass and riding it like the slut you are. But it wasn’t as good, was it? Didn’t make you come as hard as my voice in your ear, or my tongue on your dick. Sure, you got off, but it just wasn’t _quite_ enough, was it?”

Stiles’ breath was coming quickly by the time Peter finished, and he was practically falling down. Peter’s grip was apparently the only thing keeping him steady. Peter continued to look at Stiles intently, and eventually Stiles nodded in defeat. Peter let his grin fully take over his face as he dragged his eyes down the rest of his body. Just as he had suspected, Stiles was fully hard in his jeans.

“So, what’s it going to be, Stiles?”

Stiles grunted before walking back into the living room and collapsing on the couch. Peter managed to hide his grin as he followed Stiles back into the living room, stopping right in front of him. Stiles glared up at him.

“Did I say you could sit on the couch?”

“And where exactly do you expect me to sit?”

Peter hummed to himself, as if in thought, as he sat back down in his chair. “At my feet should do nicely.”

Stiles opened his mouth to respond, but Peter quirked an eyebrow, and Stiles quickly shut his mouth before sliding off the couch and collapsing at Peter’s feet.

Peter ran a hand through Stiles’ hair before he could stop himself. Oh well, Stiles deserved some positive reinforcement. Peter turned on the TV to the news, and then continued to stroke Stiles’ hair in silence. After a couple of minutes, Stiles sighed and relaxed, placing his head on Peter’s knee.

For the next hour, Stiles stayed still as Peter continued to pet his hair. Peter was surprised by how still the kid could be, he was usually at least bouncing a leg when sitting down. It was definitely a good sign of things to come.

Eventually, though, Stiles sat up and looked at his phone, quietly cursing under his breath. He stood up, stretching as he did.

“Scott texted, apparently he wants me to come over.”

Peter simply looked up at Stiles rather than responding.

Stiles took a deep breath, and muttered, “May I please leave, sir?”

“Not yet,” Peter said, while standing up. Stiles opened his mouth to respond, but, before he could, Peter put one hand on his hip, and the other in his hair to pull him in close. Stiles’ mouth snapped shut just before Peter forced Stiles’ head to the side and claimed his lips in a crushing kiss. Stiles whimpered before melting into the kiss, his hands gripping tight onto Peter’s shoulder. Peter silently counted to five before pulling away. After a second, Stiles opened his eyes, clearly having a hard time focusing.

“Now you may leave,” Peter said, before quickly pressing one last kiss against Stiles’ lips, “but you have to call me tonight.”

Stiles blinked a few times before nodding and heading to the door. After he opened it, he paused and looked back at Peter. “Thank you, sir.”

Before Peter could respond, Stiles hurried out the door. Peter grinned, his planning now shifted from getting back his alpha powers, to the phone call later that night. Oh yes, that was definitely something to look forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, let me apologize for how long this has been. I promise I've got plans and will continue to update. Unfortunately, my personal life and a death in the family have gotten in the way of updating. Second, I've changed the title (this one just felt more right), and the number of chapters. Not sure exactly how many are left, but at least a few more! Sorry again about the absence, but thanks for the continued kudos and comments, I can't tell you how much they've meant!


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